I watched Iris settle into her drawing routine, which involved approximately seventeen different colored pencils and the kind of focused concentration usually reserved for bomb defusal. She’d positioned herself at an angle where the light hit her sketchbook perfectly, and Gerald the unicorn sat propped against the armrest like he was supervising her artistic process.

"You realize tomorrow everything changes, right?" I said, dropping into the chair across from her. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

"Everything changed the day you spilled coffee on Cassidy’s shirt. Tomorrow is just when you stop pretending it didn’t." Her pencil moved across the paper with quick, confident strokes. "Besides, Sabrina’s been planning this longer than anyone realizes. She told me she started liking you before you even noticed her."

That piece of information landed somewhere uncomfortable in my chest. Sabrina had a way of making it seem like she’d materialized out of thin air exactly when needed, but the reality was probably more complex. How long had she been watching me stumble through tutoring sessions and family dinners without saying anything?

"What else did she tell you?"

"That you’re going to be surprised by how different she is when it’s just the two of you. No audience. No sisters to manage. No performance required." Iris looked up from her drawing with those dark eyes that missed absolutely nothing. "She said most people never see her without the mask."

The apartment felt smaller suddenly, like the walls had shifted inward while I wasn’t paying attention. In ten hours I’d wake up to my alarm, shower, dress, and drive to a mansion where one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever met would be waiting to spend two weeks teaching me exactly who she was underneath all that careful control.

The thought should have been exciting. Instead, it felt like standing at the edge of a cliff and being told to jump while trusting that someone I barely understood would catch me.

My phone buzzed with a text from Sabrina: Coffee at 7. Don’t be late.

No context. No explanation. Just an order delivered with the confidence of someone who knew I’d show up regardless of my own plans.

Where?

You’ll figure it out.

I stared at the screen for a full minute before typing back: That’s not how appointments work.

It is now.

Iris was definitely Diana’s daughter. The ability to see through my bullshit and call it out directly was genetic, apparently.

"You’re nervous."

"I’m always nervous. It’s my default setting."

"You’re nervous about Sabrina specifically. Different kind of nervous." She held up her sketchbook to show me a drawing of a boy with two-toned hair surrounded by four girls with hearts in their eyes. "This is you panicking about tomorrow."

The drawing was disturbingly accurate. She’d captured something in the central figure’s expression that looked exactly like how I felt right now, equal parts anticipation and terror.

"I’m not panicking."

"You’re absolutely panicking. You’ve been running your hand through your hair for the past five minutes, which is what you do when you’re trying to solve a problem that doesn’t have a clear solution."

I stopped running my hand through my hair immediately.

"The problem is that Sabrina sees everything. All the things I try to hide, all the things I don’t want anyone to notice. She looks at me like she’s reading a book she’s already finished."

"Maybe that’s not a problem. Maybe that’s the point."

Iris went back to her drawing, adding details that probably represented various psychological insights she’d absorbed during her conversations with the Valentine sisters. The girl was turning into a terrifying combination of artistic talent and amateur therapy, which meant I was living with someone who could document my emotional breakdowns and analyze them at the same time.

My phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Harlow: Good luck tomorrow! Sabrina likes earl grey tea and dark chocolate. Also she thinks your smile is prettier than sunrise but don’t tell her I told you that.

Before I could process that completely, another message appeared from Vivienne: I’ve prepared a brief document outlining optimal approaches for the first rotation. It’s attached as a PDF. Please review it tonight.

The PDF was twelve pages long.

Cassidy’s message came last: Two weeks, scholarship boy. Try not to get lost in those purple eyes before I get my turn.

"They’re all texting you advice about Sabrina," Iris observed without looking up from her drawing.

"How do you know that?"

"Because you’re making faces at your phone like it’s speaking a foreign language. Also, Harlow texted me the same information about the tea and chocolate because she was worried you wouldn’t read her message carefully enough."

I scrolled through Vivienne’s document, which included sections on "Optimal Conversation Topics," "Recommended Activity Scheduling," and "Potential Emotional Triggers to Avoid." The girl had created a relationship manual like she was preparing for a business presentation.

"This is insane."

"This is what happens when four girls who’ve never shared anything important decide to share someone they all want completely." Iris finally looked up from her drawing. "They’re trying to help you succeed with Sabrina because they want you to be happy. But they’re also competing with each other to see who understands you best."

The accuracy of that observation was uncomfortable. Each sister had developed her own approach to whatever this situation was becoming. Vivienne’s strategic planning, Harlow’s enthusiastic support, Cassidy’s possessive confidence, and Sabrina’s patient certainty that she’d already won something the rest of us hadn’t figured out yet.

"What did you tell them when they asked about me?"

"I told them you’re an idiot who pretends not to care about things that terrify you, and that anyone who wants to date you needs to be prepared for approximately six months of emotional unavailability followed by complete devotion once you finally admit you’re attached."

"You told them that?"

"Harlow asked me directly. She wanted to know what you’re like when you actually care about someone." Iris shrugged. "I told her the truth. You’re impossible until you’re not, and then you’re completely worth it."

The conversation was veering into territory that made my chest feel tight and strange. I wasn’t used to being analyzed by people who actually knew me well enough to see past the surface performance.

"I should probably read Vivienne’s document."